The Last Moment of Childhood
by AngelsAndPies
Summary: It's hard to look back on memories that mean so much to you, and knowing that there's no possible way to relive them. It can make for a happy, good time, thinking about the past, but it can also lead your mind in a downward spiral that can only be halted by drinking.


It was a Sunday when both mom and dad were home. It was also a Sunday that mom had my little baby brother still growing in her belly.

We went to the park that was close to our house because I was complaining about how bored I was, and how I just wanted that dumb baby to hurry up and get out of mom's belly already so I could finally see him. It seemed like forever since mom and dad first told me about him, and I just wanted him to be something I could actually see and hold and talk to.

And if mom and dad knew me, they knew I loved to go to the park. Call it a bit of a distraction, maybe.

So we got there, and I was kind of bummed to see that there were other kids already there. Don't ask me why, I just found it more enjoyable when it was just me, mom, and dad. I felt like it was just us, forever and always. No other kids, no other adults. Just me, mom, dad, and my soon to be baby brother.

Regardless, I played and had a good old time with the other kids, forcing dad to pretend he was a monster and chase us all around. It was kind of like tag, where whoever dad touched, turned into a monster too, until we were all just monsters.

Mom sat on a bench and watched. Any time I would look over at her, she'd be smiling with her hands on her belly. Seeing mom smile was one of my favorite things in the world.

At one point, I got tired, so dad and I went to go sit down by mom. Dad had his arm around her, and I sat on her other side as I told her about what me and dad and all the other kids were playing. I had a feeling she already knew all about it, what with how loud the other kids and I were, but I kept blabbering on anyway.

One boy a little older than me came up to me a minute later and told me to come back and play with him again, so I did. But that boy made a mistake.

He looked at mom, then back at me and asked if she was my mom. Of course, I said yes, and this kid laughed and said that she was fat. I don't remember being so angry in my life. The only reason mom looked bigger was because she had my baby brother in there.

The next thing I knew, my fist was flying into this kid's face. I yelled at him, saying mom wasn't fat, and that she had a little person growing in her stomach. He started to cry, and I just got more mad, but mom and dad ran over to stop anything else from happening.

We left after that. Mom was disappointed in me, telling me I shouldn't be mean or hit people because they say something like that, but I didn't understand. I was protecting mom, sticking up for her, and she must not have realized that. Dad seemed pretty angry that I reacted the way I did, but he didn't say anything.

When we got home, mom told dad to have a talk with me about respecting others while she went to go rest. So dad took me into my room and sat me down on my bed. I didn't look at him, I didn't want to get yelled at. But no yells ever came. He talked to me calmly, asking me why I punched the boy even though I already said why at the park.

I told him again, but I spoke slower so he'd understand a bit more. I noticed that he looked a lot calmer, even having a smile on his face ever since we got in my room.

I was startled to hear him laugh. He held up his hand, smiling at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. I smacked my hand against dad's, nodding with a smile as he asked me if I taught that boy his lesson about making fun of people.

It was then that I realized that dad only acted mad around mom because she was upset with what I did. But dad was proud of me for defending mom, and also, in a way, my brother. He said that sometimes, people need to be put in their place. That didn't give me the right to go around punching people I don't agree with, or even hit anyone at all, but I could speak my mind how I wanted to and try to hold back, at least a little, on the physicality of the matter.

Mom may have been upset with me. But dad? Dad was proud of me. Proud of his son.

~oOo~

"And after we high-fived and talked a bit more about it, he just smiled and said, 'Now go make some more picture for Sammy. He'll like to see them when he's born.' and so I did."

Sam stared at Dean as he spoke, totally engrossed in his story, in his memory. "And he was cool after that? Like, it was never brought up again?"

Dean smiled, shaking his head, "Nope," he said simply, his fingers tapping idly on the beer bottle in his hands.

Sam couldn't help but smile as well, looking down for a moment, "Wow..dad sure was a different guy then, huh?" He asked rhetorically, looking back at his big brother.

The smile on Dean's face faltered slightly, his gaze now set on the bottle in his hands, "...Yeah. Yeah he was."

A silence filled the bunker, but only for a few moments, for Sam spoke once more. "How...how do you remember all that? I wasn't even born yet, that was so long ago. How did that of all things stick with you?"

Dean set his gaze dead ahead, looking as if he was deep in thought. He held the bottle close to his lips, pausing for a moment. "Because it was one of my last moments of childhood." He then closed his eyes, tilting his head back and downing the rest of his beer.


End file.
